


Thinking Out Loud

by WanderingTiff



Series: Home [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (do i really need to tag that tho?), Aged-Up Character(s), Anterograde Amnesia, Body Hair, Body Worship, Food Play???, Gentle Sex, Home Spoilers, Kinda?, M/M, Middle-aged, Tattoos, Therapy Session Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingTiff/pseuds/WanderingTiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days are good, others are not so much. Marco finds himself in one of his bad days when he wakes up one morning and finds himself looking over twenty-five years older than he did yesterday.</p><p>(Home Spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking Out Loud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohsnapCiera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsnapCiera/gifts).



> Day 29 of my NSFW Challenge as well. This is where I will finally complete my journey and never do another NSFW Prompt thing again (I'm lying, possibly). This 30 Day NSFW Challenge thing became 10 months. Imagine that... (Let's all pretend I didn't skip Day 28 and move on with our lives.) I love all of you so much, and once again, thank you so much for all the praise that Home has been getting, even months after the story has finished.
> 
> This work is for Mama Ciera! She has been supporting me ever since I finally started contributing to the fandom, from Chrysanthemum to Home. Not only that, she has been willing to help me when I was down even though she barely knew me at the time. Now, her birthday is today, and I want to give her something special to thank her for everything that she has done for me for the past year.  
> I give you many wishes of good luck in the future, Mama. Never stop being a special treasure to this world, and always give everything you've got in all that you do. You are a strong woman, and you deserve as much happiness as everyone on this planet can muster. Happy Birthday!

_Marco leaves work early that afternoon_ knowing that there has to be something of importance. Well, his boss did let him go and said that it was his own request. He isn’t exactly sure when or why, but upon returning home to his house in Silverton, there is an eager teenager that has been waiting for his arrival since they got off of school.

That’s right. Andy’s choir concert is tomorrow.

For some reason Jean thought it would be fun to have the two of them be in charge of all the desserts. If only Marco had more time to prepare for it. He is already buzzing with ideas, but he only has so much at home. He will make do. And Jean will have to go and buy some things.

It’s a bit startling knowing that when he goes through that front door of his house, he is going to be bombarded by not one, but four children he can only wish he remembered having. But he is happy with this new knowledge, knowing that he has been fully capable of starting a family with a person he loves so much that it is almost unfathomable.

At first sight after a long day at work, all he knows about his children is what he read in his journal entries.

Elisabeth Kirschtein-Bodt likes to be called Elisa. And he has cringed more than once when someone carelessly calls her “Eliza” instead at the occasional parent-teacher conference. She is fifteen years old and infatuated with some boy named Isaac. Good kid, but not allowed to hang out with her by Jean’s repetitive request. Something about not earning his trust yet. Well Marco likes him apparently, so that was a start. No convincing yet.

Andy Kirschtein-Bodt is thirteen, and it took a very emotional day after walking in on them chopping off their mid-length dark hair very unevenly and crying at the way their body looked in the mirror for Jean and Marco to finally realize that they did not like being called Andrea Marie. They did not like how confined they felt sticking to one gender binary, how lost they were while trying to fit in. They had an intense fear of telling their parents, but that day when they were sobbing at their reflection, their fathers were willing to help them feel comfortable just living in their household without fear of being ridiculed.

Their worries of these fears coming true at home began to wither away after they gave them a binder for Christmas last year. Their parents were willing to help them, and that help included setting the records straight with snobby teachers that always referred to them as “your daughter” and called them “Miss Andrea” after denying their request despite every protest that quickly followed.

Andy and Marco are currently almost inseparable. That probably explains why he couldn’t say no to helping them with refreshments for the choir concert.

Ciera and Nolan Kirschtein-Bodt are two hyperactive six year olds that love their parents to _pieces_. Almost literally. They are always together, ever since the day Marco and Jean brought them home when they were two years old. Their first years of life were not as great as they could have been, and at times they can still be skittish. But they came to this home looking for love and care, and they happily found it on day one.

Both twins like to play Barbies. Nolan can actually match the purses with the outfits, though. They also love Disney, which Jean has absolutely no problems with. Marco however is sometimes startled in the morning when he wakes up and hears a preschool show host, computer generated or hired for kicks, ask an audience that probably is thousands of miles from the set what four plus four is. But somehow, despite the current circumstances, he manages to get used to the chaos and crazy easier each morning as time passes.

Upon entering the door, of course he is bombarded with two jumpy figures clinging to him chiming a mantra of “Daddy! Daddy you’re home!” An adolescent “Hey, Dad,” can be heard from the other room, and Marco just needs a moment to breathe. The twins finally let go of him. Andy is already in the kitchen, looking through the cabinets with music blaring in a foreign but recognizable language.

Portuguese. He’d heard it but rarely spoke it. He was only three when he lost his biological parents as well as his touch with his Brazilian roots. Andy happily brought the latter back, being that they were originally born in Espírito Santo.

“Will you turn down that racket?” This probably has to be the eighth or so time Elisa asked, judging by the exasperated tone. Marco can’t help but giggle when he hears her groan as he turns the music up louder. “DAD!”

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he chuckles and gets out a bowl. “Okay Andy, what kind of cake are we making?”

“What’s your favorite flavor?” is their response. They get the eggs out of the fridge, being careful and making sure none of them fall. “I don’t wanna drop them all like last time,” they sigh.

Marco doesn’t even remember that there was a “last time,” even after Andy does accidentally let one fall on the floor.

“Sorry, Dad…” they frown and grab paper towels.

“No harm, no foul.” He gets out the ingredients, knowing them by heart. “My favorite is red velvet. And your Aunt Ymir’s is chocolate.”

“We know Aunt Ymir’s favorite is chocolate, Dad,” Andy chides and takes out the extract from the cabinet. “Let’s make red velvet then.”

“Sweet,” he grins and is already beginning to prepare the masterpiece. Every cake is a work of art to him.

“See?” they smile after washing their hands. They begin to mix some ingredients together. “You’re the best at cakes. Much better than the cakes they sell at Shoprite.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he says modestly with a smile. “I just make wedding cakes.”

“Significantly better than Shoprite birthday cakes, by definition!” Elisa called out.

He blushes. “Hey, why don’t you come in here and help?”

“I wanna help, Daddy!” Ciera rushes over so fast with Nolan trailing right behind her. “Let me help!”

“Me too!” Nolan chimes.

Marco just shakes his head playfully while Andy mixes. “You two just wanna help so you can lick the spoon, am I right?”

“No!” the twins insist.

That is when Nolan then caves. “Just a little spoon!”

Their father laughs. “Well, maybe we can all eat some of the batter together. We just gotta get the cake on the pan.” He is starting to get it ready while the twins go over to Andy. The three of them mixed together lightheartedly.

Elisa takes one of the ear buds out of her ears after listening to some music. She noticed her three siblings having fun in the kitchen with their dad and got up. “Do you still need some help, Dad?”

Marco glances over. “Well, the oven does need to be preheated, come to think of it. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” she smiles while the others finish mixing. She preheats the oven and glances at her father again. “350, right?”

“Yes,” he smiles and looks out the window. “I haven’t seen snow since I was thirteen.”

“Daddy, it snowed yesterday,” Nolan giggles. The young boy doesn’t understand why he could say something like that. All he knows is that there is something wrong with his daddy’s head. At least, that is what Elisa tells him as a way to explain to him that the next day, his own father does not realize that he has children at all. Or even a husband.

Elisa knows though, and has known for a few years. Andy is slowly being explained better now that they are older.

Marco hates that his four children have to live this way with one of their parents. He’d seen that mentioned a few times in his journals. After over twenty years of writing everything down, it became _volumes_. It was a little hard to keep track of them all, and getting harder to read all of it each day. But he is trying so hard. He knows his vows. They are embedded deep in his mind. He made a promise to show that he will never forget the love and bond that he and his husband share. And he is not going to break it now all because of the sudden quantity of knowledge each day, each month, and each year that passes by since late October of 2020.

It is so surreal realizing that it has been over seventeen years since the two of them married. And it has been almost thirty since they first met. Thirty…

The look on his face when seeing that today’s date is Wednesday, December 16th, 2037 must have been Polaroid worthy. Just yesterday Marco was twenty-one, planning on moving out of his parents' house, and taking a decorating job somewhere in town to move up from Braun’s Pastries. Now he is married, has kids, and works in a wedding cake decorating business somewhere in New Jersey. Almost fifty years old.

Good lord, when he was getting ready this morning he almost screamed at the amount of gray hair on his head, the way his hairline has thinned since “yesterday.” His face is starting to sink, some wrinkles around his eyes and within the fading freckles on his cheeks.

Forty-seven looks awful on him.

“Dad!”

Elisa’s voice takes him out of his trance. He looked over and shakes his head to clear it more. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ciera was asking if they can go outside in the snow.”

He blinks and looks at the twins. Right… Some children like going out in the snow. The twins are probably among them.

“You can go outside when your dad comes back.”

“Papa makes the best snowmen,” Nolan giggles. “I’m gonna ask if I can get a carrot for the nose this time!”

“But you put it on last time!” Ciera pouts.

Marco sighs softly in the middle of their bickering, and the pan gets put in the oven. He grabs a few spoons. “It’s time to eat the batter,” he grins.

“Yay!” The twins gleefully take a couple and literally dig into the bowl for the remaining batter.

“Save some for me now,” he calls while he hears the two of them giggle.

Elisa rushes over to her younger brother and sister. “Don’t take too much. You’ll get a bellyache.”

“I’m sure they will be okay,” he insists.

With a nod, she takes the twins back out in the living room to watch their shows. Marco glances at the time. Jean should be getting back from the grocery store soon. It is almost three o’clock. Soon it will be too cold for the kids to play out in the snow.

Andy helps Marco with the undesirable task of cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. It isn’t too bad, but it still needs to be done. They keep an eye on the clock, and already the twins are getting their snow gear, not wasting any time.

“You should go out in the snow too, Dad,” Andy tells him. “You didn’t get to yesterday.”

“I’m really not used to the option,” he chuckles and wipes off the table. “I don’t really know how to build a snowman or make those nice snow angels. I’m surprised that I know how to dig out the car when I have to go to work.”

They smile. “Well true.. But there is a first time for everything, you know?”

Marco looks at the window. “Don’t I know it.”

There is a chorus of “Papa!”s in the living room that lets Marco know that Jean is back from shopping. He smiles and follows the calls. “Hi, stranger.”

Jean looks up at his husband at hearing that. He didn’t expect him to burst out laughing, but sure enough that is what he does. Marco does not question him. The only conversation he remembers the two of them ever having was this morning at breakfast when Jean laid out his plans on shopping for snacks. He also added that he was going to stop for some food. They both seemed to agree on fast food for the night, too lazy to do any cooking after Marco would have to bake the cake. The ayes had it.

So in his hands Jean has bags from Shoprite, with Elisa groaning about how Marco should have made all the pastries. Both parents have to explain _again_ that there wasn’t enough time for him to prepare for it. Andy doesn’t really care. He made the cake, and that is all that seems to matter.

“Papa, Papa let’s play in the snow!” Nolan grabs at Jean’s pant leg and gives gentle tugs.

Ciera is just as enthusiastic, if not more. “Yes please, Papa!”

Andy helps fix their coats, seeing that they are doing it wrong. “I think playing in the snow actually sounds fun.”

“I’m in,” Jean smiles. “Do you wanna join us, Elisa?”

The teenager looks up and shrugs. “I guess. It sounds fun, at least.” She grabs her coat. “I call using the shower first, though!”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. He looks at his husband now. “Do you wanna join us today, babe?”

Marco blinks. “I dunno. I’m not really that good at the whole… playing in the snow thing.”

“It’ll be fun,” he insists. “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

While the children giggle, Marco has no idea what the context of this is. “I guess I do.”

“Then come on!” He takes his hand, rushing him to the door.

The brunette just so casually stops himself. “Wait wait, I need my coat!”

“Oh, right.” The children already rush past them. Jean places his worn beanie right on his husband’s head. “This will keep you warm.”

“And this.” Marco wraps the scarf around his neck. “But yeah, the hat works perfectly.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if that is sarcasm.”

“A little bit of both,” He grins and they kiss each other. The second time they do today. “C’mon, let’s build this snowman. I have no idea how to do it.”

“You’ve never seen snow before?”

“I was thirteen,” he explains as he walks out with his husband. “It was barely a dusting. I lived in Florida when I was younger, remember?”

“Of course,” he smiles and takes his hand. “I also know that you were born in Arkansas.”

“Yep. And my parents were originally from Brazil.”

With a nod, the two of them join their children. They are already trying to throw snowballs at each other, and one of them hits Marco, bringing him headlong into the fight. This little snowball fight lasts about ten minutes, until Ciera gets hit in the face and the poor thing cries for her parents to stop the game. They tend to her and keep her warm and dry inside, but she is insistent about returning to the others.

By the time the little six year old returns, they are no longer having a snowball fight. They settle their differences and start making snow angels. Elisa is the best at those, no matter how many times Jean proclaims that he is. Andy wants to build a snowman already.

“I’ll make the bottom,” Jean says when they all decide to build it together.

“Papa, I wanna help!” Nolan rushes over while Jean starts making the ball.

Elisa shrugs. “Ciera and I can make the middle.”

“Looks like we have the head, Dad,” Andy smiles and starts making the snowball.

Marco just stares at the five of them for a minute. Everything seems to click with them, meanwhile it will always take a few moments before the brunette can catch up and join in. Andy beckons their father to join them on rolling the ball in the snow. They have to help him, because every time he tries to the snow crumbles underneath him.

“It’s freezing out here,” he frowns.

“Well, it _is_ snowing out, Dad,” Andy smirks playfully.

“In Florida, winter temperatures were always low sixties.”

“That’s fall here,” they laugh.

He frowns. “Gross. Florida is so much nicer.”

“Beg to differ!” Jean calls. “It gets way too hot there sometimes, you have to agree with me!”

“Well, it gets _way_ too cold here!”

He notices the sharpness to Marco’s tone, but he dismisses it with a shrug. “Touché.”

Marco wants to go home.

That moment, he does not want to be in New Jersey in the snow with people he doesn’t know that claim to be his family. He wants to be in Florida, where the sun is shining and it is rarely under sixty degrees, even in the winter. Back where he is a twenty-one year old man with his whole life ahead of him. Where both of his parents are alive and well. He doesn’t even know if his remaining father is still around.

“Dad…” Andy rubbing his arm brings him back again. He looks over blearily, and his child just gives him a soft smile. “Hey… C’mon, let’s finish the head, Dad.”

He smiles slowly. “Sure...” He doesn’t hesitate and goes to help them. Maybe now he is getting the hang of it.

They finish just as Elisa and Ciera place the middle on top of the snowman’s bottom. Of course they need a little help with getting the head on top of it. There was no real issue with that, except for Jean attempting to throw snowballs at them to distract them. That does not really work that well. Jean's never had the best aim. It just makes the twins giggle and Elisa smack her forehead.

They all have their little moment. And they use Jean’s red beanie as a hat, some rocks from the rock bed to make the buttons, eyes, and mouth. Two sticks from the tree at the far end of the yard are used for the arms, and Elisa’s scarf is then wrapped around the snowman’s neck. Next is the nose. At first, they aren’t really sure what to use for it.

Their first guess is to use a carrot, but they are sorely disappointed to find that they do not have any in the house. Ciera ends up grabbing another rock from the rock bed and sticking it out like it is a distended nose; with Marco’s help of course, because the poor girl can’t reach that high.

With their snowman complete, Jean takes a picture with his phone. Marco is just mainly surprised by how advanced it looks, compared to the phones that he is used to from twenty-five years ago. The kids are so excited that it brings their confused father to some sort of glee, despite being way behind them. When the two parents have a moment along, he comes over and tries to talk to him.

“Jean,” he hesitates. “Did I ever have any more therapy after we got married?” It’s a valid question. He feels really out of place, and in his journal it does mention that he went to therapy, if he doesn’t already still go there now.

“Of course,” the blonde assures him. “Your therapist is always on call in case if you have any questions or concerns since time is moving by even quicker. You will be able to talk to him any time.”

He nods. “Okay... where’s my phone?”

“It’s inside,” Jean says. “You should be able to find it on your desk next to your latest journal.”

“Thank you.” He walks over to the door and then looks back for a minute. “It’s not gonna be all complicated like yours is, right?”

“No,” he smiles. “It's the same phone you’ve had since 2012. You’d be surprised how we are able to keep it in good condition all this time.”

“I wish my car was as lucky as my phone then,” he mutters before going inside. He has a brand new car that he has no idea how to even use. It took him an hour this morning to figure out that he didn’t even need a key to start it. The future is here, and he is not ready for it and never will be. He feels like Marty McFly, traveling to 2015 and not even knowing what to do or what the customs were in this futuristic world. However his big concern was how to make his life better in the next thirty years, not knowing that he was going to become a miserable, unemployed miser.

But now it is 2037, twenty-two years since that fantasized future. He seems to have more luck with the future than Marty McFly, but Hollywood’s idea of the future was probably way off. There are still no flying cars, for one thing. Hollywood also probably didn’t think to add that people will be carrying phones now the size iPads around with them. Going from forwards to backwards when it comes to size. They probably also didn’t think of the clothes. Their outfits and fashions still haven’t really changed since twenty-five years ago. At least there was one thing that is still sacred.

When he gets to his bedroom, he is relieved to see that it really is the same phone that he’s had. He moves closer and checks to see that there is an address book underneath it. He turns a couple pages, and right there is the number to his current therapist. Dr. Freudenberg. He decides to get a hold of him on his business number, hoping that he is still there in the office.

_“Hello, Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt. How can I help you today?”_

He must already have a set routine, if he goes right ahead and answers so casually within seconds. Marco probably calls his therapist a lot.

“Dr. Freudenberg?” He looks down and rubs his arm nervously. “How do you keep up with the time?”

 _“I don’t think I understand your question,”_ is his response.

Marco sighs deeply as he tries to think of a way to clarify. “I don’t understand the giant gap between the day of my accident and today. Way too much has passed since then. This morning I wake up thinking that I am twenty-one years old and living at home with my parents. I think it is Ymir’s birthday. I get ready to go to work at Braun’s Pastries. Only... there is a book sitting on my desk saying ‘Read Me,’ and that thing tells me that apparently, the routine that I’ve had set since the minute I woke up is invalid. How would you feel if that was you?”

He must get this question a lot as well. It only takes a minute for him to answer. _“Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt, it is perfectly understandable that you think the world is way ahead of you. But you see, there is a lot that you have been able to accomplish the past twenty-five years. You surpassed all odds, and you are able to live the life that you know everyone around you will be proud of. You’re a hard-worker, and you are a great provider for your family—"_

“And another thing, how do you expect me to react when I wake up this morning, read a book, and realize that I am married and have children that I don’t even know about? I’m sorry to interrupt you and your nice monologue there, but that is really not what I need to hear right now. I want you to tell me how I am supposed to adjust to the fact that there is a twenty-five year gap and I don’t even know what the hell is the main stream anymore. I want you to explain to me how I am supposed to live each day twenty-five years ahead of the time that I am used to. How do you expect me to try and go about my day when a whole fucking generation has passed! Please, enlighten me!”

His answer is not so quick now. Huh. Maybe Marco has beat him at his own game.

He hears a sigh on the other end. _“Listen... Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt. No one expects you to be with the time. Your family is very understanding, and they are always there to help you, especially your husband. I know, taking in the fact that twenty-five years has passed is really hard, but it is not impossible. Whether it is ten years, twenty years, or even fifty, you have the capability to get up on your feet and get on with your life in the way that you have made sure it was set up for you the next day. You went to work this morning, did you? In Freehold, right?”_

Marco slowly nods, but he knows that his therapist cannot see that from his office. “Yes. But it took so long to get my car started, and I wasn’t sure who my coworkers were.”

_“Was there someone there that introduced you to the employees?”_

“Yes, my boss was there.”

Dr. Freudenberg answers again shortly. _“You have so many supporters around you, Mr. Kirschtein-Bodt. You are very fortunate. How do you feel about your family?”_

“I don’t know what to think,” he admits. “This morning I woke up knowing absolutely nothing about them. Then I have to read through to realize I have a teenaged daughter, a non-binary child, young twins, and a husband that apparently loves me enough to deal with my bullshit every single day.”

_“And he loves you enough to come and visit me every so often.”_

That makes him freeze. “He visits you, Dr. Freudenberg?”

 _“Sometimes, even people that can offer the most support to those who need it also need help. Your husband has enough reassurance from you, his family, and now myself to keep on track, and he has my number for whenever he needs me. You both have been through a lot, and you were both able to move past it the best you could. The most important thing about this is that neither of you were alone doing it. I understand that you are in a really tough position right now, and you are not the only one that has these doubts and questions, or feelings of helplessness. That also does not make your need for help any less invalid,”_ Dr. Freudenberg assures him. _“What I can for you is tell you that you are are strong man, going through what you might think is nonsense just to get through from one day to the next. And you will never be alone going through it. Someone will always be there, whether it is me, your husband, your boss, even your children. The important thing is that you are able to get through the day like anyone else would.”_

Marco just listens intently the whole time. He is still shivering from being out in the snow, and his eyes are misty. He wipes them after taking off one of his gloves, and he waits until he is done speaking. “...I-if I’m usually okay, when it comes to transitioning from what I think is reality to knowing how it really is, then... why is today so bad? What is so different about today?”

 _“Well, there are good days, and there are bad days,”_ he explains. _“That is unavoidable. There are some days that no matter how it is explained to you, or what happens in the day, you just can’t get it. That’s one of the reasons why I am here. On your bad days, you can always come to me for the help you need. Can you tell me what happened today that threw you off?”_

He has to think back a little bit. “When I woke up this morning, I saw that the clock said five in the morning instead of seven. That was the first thing. Next, I guess I didn’t look at my journal right away. In this house, there is a joined bathroom next to my room, so I went in there to investigate, since this bedroom I have looks nothing like the bedroom at my house in Florida. And then I looked in the mirror... My hair is more gray than it is black. Mostly around the edges and sides, not really the top so much. And I just... I looked older. Definitely not twenty-one. And I panicked. I didn’t know what was going on, and it wasn’t until another ten minutes that I found the journal sitting on my nightstand.”

_“So seeing how you look now compared to what you did twenty-five years ago is what made you really freak out?”_

The brunette shrugs. “I guess so. And then, I just skimmed through the journal entries looking for answers. I was just mainly surprised to see that they were in volumes. Is it like, one for every year or something?”

_“After you started running out of room in your first journal, I suggested that you started writing more. You categorized them by year. But the reason why the current volume is Volume seventeen is because you did not start writing down things until late 2014, and that first journal spans across six years.”_

“I saw in my first entry,” he assures him. “So, Dr. Freudenberg... Do you think I’m being too irrational?”

 _“Of course not,”_ he insisted. _“And I am not just saying that just to please you. Everyone’s feelings are valid, no matter what it is or what is going on while you are having these thoughts. It is totally fine.”_

Marco nods and looks out the window. He can see his family playing outside, giddily throwing snow at each other and not paying any attention to the waning light of the setting sun. They are so at peace, and it seems like they are perfectly fine without him. Happy, joyful, not having to keep living a lie for one parent’s sake.

“...Is it normal to get a bad feeling in your gut? Like, everything would be just fine if you weren’t a part of it?”

 _“I don’t think so,”_ his therapist confesses. _“Are you having any doubtful feelings?"_

“It just seems like my family is getting along fine without me,” he murmurs. “Maybe they are. I mean... I’m not out with them while they are playing in the snow right now. They all look so happy.”

_“That’s not necessarily true. They’re just playing outside. How were they with you today?”_

Marco sits down on his bed. “Well, Elisa was patient with me... The twins just don’t understand that I do not remember it snowing the day before. Andy seems to have some kind of grasp on the idea that I barely can live in the now, much less in the past. They aren’t exactly as patient as Elisa is, but I can tell that they care at least a little bit.”

 _“See?”_ Dr. Freudenberg presses. _“I really do not think that you are easily replaceable or forgotten by your family. And deep down, you don’t think either. I’m not saying that you should act like you don’t have these feelings. You can always share your concerns with your husband if you wish to. Just press forward. Show not only the world that you can do these things, but yourself as well. Don’t doubt yourself so easily because you had a bad day.”_

The brunette sighs deeply and takes out his journal. He realizes that he probably should write all of this down, including what he was thinking outside when he was playing in the snow. So he starts to while he listens to his therapist. “Thank you, Dr. Freudenberg. I really don’t know what I would have done without you.”

_“It’s my pleasure. Now, no point in wasting the day sulking in your room and thinking about what you can’t do, is there? Just go out there and do. Live. Don’t fear for what others would say or how long it takes you to stay with what is going on in this generation. Live your life how you want to right now, not how others want you to or expect you to.”_

He smiles. “Thank you, again. I’d better get going. I’ve had cake in the oven, and I don’t want it to burn,” he says.

 _“Go on ahead. Don’t let me get in the way from doing what you have to do.”_ The soft chuckle on the other end relaxes him more. _“Enjoy the rest of your day. Goodbye.”_

“Bye.” As Marco hangs up, he writes more down in his journal until he is satisfied. Then he puts his glove back on and rushes back downstairs while holding onto the railing. He looks in the kitchen, seeing that the cake is ready. He sets the pan on the table to let it cool down before they can decorate it. The bags from the fast food restaurant are still on the counter, and surprisingly they are still warm. He takes off his snow gear and steps out the door, seeing the five of them still playing and laughing. “Guys, come on inside!” he calls. “It’s time for dinner.”

Jean looks up first at hearing him. “Oh, that’s right! How could I lose track of the time?” He looks at the kids. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

The twins groan in disappointment while the older two hurry on in. They look cold and are glad to be inside the house. Jean has to drag the other two inside while they come to terms with the fact that it is getting too cold and dark outside to play. Marco helps them get their cold and wet clothes off so they can take turns in a nice, hot shower. Elisa goes first while the others have dinner, and it goes down in a row from oldest to youngest as they divide up and eat their dinner. Jean helps the twins a little, since they are still young and sometimes can get soap in their eyes if they are not careful.

The next couple hours are peaceful. Now that the cake is ready to be decorated, the twins take turns putting on the vanilla frosting first. Marco helps them and gives them tips. While he and the four children decorate together, Jean watches them from the table with a soft smile. It is obvious that talking to Dr. Freudenberg has helped Marco feel better, and he’d been worried for a minute there that today was going to be a bad day for him. Now he can see that his husband is still growing and making more progress day by day.

Marco finishes off the cake by adding the flowers. Along the rounded shape, Andy has traced the edge in red frosting, while Elisa added green dots and designs for a holiday touch. His skills are really rubbing off on him, and he feels rather proud of the creation that the five of them made together. He can’t stop smiling, even after the cake gets put away on a platter and into the fridge.

“So tomorrow Andy, we get ready for your concert right when you get off the bus,” Jean reminds their child.

They groan heavily. “I know... Also, can I gel my hair back? I want it to look nice tomorrow.”

“You can use mine,” Marco assures them. “Also, don’t get any lint on your pants, okay?”

“I’ll try not to, but you know the twins are messy,” they grin and hug their father. “Thanks for making the cake today, Dad.”

“And thanks for helping me,” he says with a smile.

“We helped too!” The twins raise their hands as they are giggling with delight, and Marco goes over and holds each of them in his arms.

“You guys are getting heavy,” he strains and laughs as he takes them over to the couch. Jean, Andy, and Elisa follow them, and the TV gets turned on. “What movie do you wanna watch tonight?”

“Can we watch Frozen?” Ciera beams.

Nolan crosses his arms. “We watched it yesterday!”

“I bet you guys have worn out that poor DVD by now,” Jean teases and takes the disk out. “Do you wanna see it, Marco?”

“Sure, why not?” he smiles. “How old is that movie anyways?”

“Twenty-four years old,” he tells him. “But the kids still love it.”

“Kinda like how Beauty and The Beast was,” he chuckles.

“What’s that movie, Daddy?”

Marco seems shocked that they have no idea what he is talking about. “You mean you guys have _never_ seen Beauty and the Beast? It’s gotta be a classic by now!”

“We have it,” Elisa tells him. “Just Nolan and Ciera haven’t seen it yet.”

“Let’s watch that tonight. The twins are really missing out,” he chuckles. “We can watch Frozen tomorrow.”

Andy looks relieved and slumps playfully against their father. “ _Finally,_ something different!”

With that they spend the rest of the night watching the now pretty old Disney Classic. It seems like a change is good for everyone, especially the twins. Marco loves seeing the awed expression on both of their faces as they are watching intently. Having never seen this movie before, that also is a huge bonus. The six of them snuggle up on the couch while Jean has a bowl of popcorn being passed around. It is a Wednesday night, which means the kids do have to go to bed very soon, but no one seems fazed by it.

Throughout the movie, Marco keeps looking down at his children. Ciera and Andy are snuggling close, and Ciera is currently starting to nod off with her head resting on his lap. Andy has their arm around him, and Nolan is already sleeping against Jean’s side. Elisa is on the blonde’s other side, watching the movie with one leg crossed over the other. Marco doesn’t think he can stretch his arm out further enough to hold each family member close.

Thinking to himself, he realizes how lucky he really is, to have such a beautiful, loving family like the one he has. He is sure that there probably are ups and downs with their relationship, but they all seem to find a way to move passed it. There is definitely a possibility that he has had more than one lover’s spat with his husband, and does not doubt for a second that maybe there has been a fight between them in the past. He does not deny that with his children, either. He recalls when he read about Andy, and how it took them so long to open up to their parents and come out to them. Marco is still very happy that they trusted them enough with this information, and not once have they betrayed Andy in that sense. He thinks about Elisa’s relationship with that boy—Isaac is his name, he thinks. Maybe one day Jean will trust that young man the same way that Andy trusts their parents.

He thinks about the never-ending love that Nolan and Ciera express for their parents. Even after the way their lives first started, in the conditions they had been living in since their date of birth, they find it in their tiny hearts to start anew with these two men that wish nothing more than to give them the affection they sadly knew that the twins lacked in. Now they are growing and happy, and their unconditional love is stronger. That is exactly what their parents have hoped for.

As the movie ends, the two parents realize that it is time for the kids to be put to bed. They both each carry a twin, and Marco gently nudges Andy’s arm when seeing that they are starting to doze off. Jean helps Elisa up when she seems to be too comfortable to want to get out of bed. They put them all to bed, giving them all kisses good night and letting them know how much the two of them loved them before letting them sleep. Marco’s declarations seem to linger, as if he really wants to let them know that. He feels like they really need to hear it from him, that despite the way he lives day by day, they will always know how much he cares about them and will do anything for them.

It is ten-thirty at night when Marco gets to do the dishes. Jean has been downstairs while the brunette was in the shower beforehand. Marco doesn’t mind cleaning up after the family tonight, and as he washes and then dries the dinner dishes, he decides to voice his concerns with his husband.

“Jean...” He puts a couple cups away. “I’m sorry if I acted really weird while playing in the snow today. I just... there was a lot on my mind.” He dries off the plates that the kids had used. “I didn’t follow the routine that I usually do. I went in the bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror before I realized that it was over twenty-five years since my accident, and I have been freaking out all day because of it.” He puts the rest of the dishes away. “I felt like there was no way I could catch up with the time. A whole generation has passed, you know? And well... Dr. Freudenberg helped me a lot and answered my questions. He helped me realize that it wasn’t wrong that I felt that way, but I shouldn’t let my doubts about being able to stay with it keep me from living in the now. So, I’m sorry if I scared you or anything. But, I’m okay now. I feel a little better. and hopefully tomorrow will be a good day.” After a moment he realizes that Jean has not made any acknowledgments that he has been listening. “...Jean?” He turns his back and his eyes widen as he looks at the table. “Jean!”

While Marco had been talking, Jean had the cake he and the kids just made on the table, and he was taking forkfuls of it into his mouth. At realizing he really has been spotted, the blonde blushes as he looks up. “This cake is really good, babe.”

“Jean, that is for tomorrow!” he frowns and rushes closer. “Did you even hear anything that I said?”

“Of course I did,” he assures him. “I heard every bit of it, I was right here. Just... god, this cake.” He takes in another mouthful. “You’re a fantastic chef.”

“Put that back in the fridge.” As Marco goes to grab it, Jean picks up the platter holding the cake. Then he rushes off down the hall. The brunette runs after him. “You come back here!”

“You have to catch me first!” he laughs and runs.

“Jean!” Marco can’t help but laugh as he chases him. Jean is a bit faster than he thought he would be, but he is determined to catch him. But honestly, he is not sure what he is going to do once he does. “Give me that cake, it does not belong to you!”

“That’s not stopping me from eating it,” he jokes as he holds the cake. Unfortunately, he does not see one of Nolan’s toys in his path. As he runs away from Marco with the cake, his foot steps on the cape of the superhero action figure, and he slips on the floor, the cake breaking his fall with a _splat!_ and a grossed out groan. Something about getting it in his nose.

Marco’s eyes widen. His concern turns to Jean instead of the destroyed masterpiece being smushed by his clumsy husband. He kneels down. “Are you okay?”

Before he has time to think he finds himself dragged down on the floor as well, falling and getting cake on his scruffy, graying beard. He grimaces while it gets on his face and down his neck, but he doesn’t find it in him to yell at Jean. Instead he laughs, with that wild and carefree laughter that he heard the blonde emit when he just came home from the door.

“Glad you think it’s funny,” Jean frowns as he picked up a handful, shoving more cake in Marco’s face.

“Oh, I _know_ it is.” With a grin, after licking some of the cake off his lips, he takes some of it in his hands and runs it down from Jean’s forehead to his neck.

The little cake war does not end there. They have it in their faces, their hair, and all over their hands and arms. They are too busy laughing at each other to care. It must have been when they realized how close to each other they are when they stop. And when they do, they just stare at each other for a good minute, into their eyes. With soft breaths of laughter escaping from their lips, Jean first reaches out and rests a messy hand against his husband’s cheek. Not caring about the red velvet catastrophe on each of their bodies, they lean closer and kiss, tasting the frosting and traces of cake that is in both their mouths.

Marco feels like it has been a while since they kissed, but he doesn’t think to ask as their kiss gets deeper, more meaningful despite the mess. It makes it more enticing, if that is a good word to describe how they are feeling right at this moment. With the platter resting beside them, still holding what remains of their cake, their sloppy hands move down to the fabric of their shirts and do their best to tug them off their sensitive bodies. Some remnants of the cake catch on the hairs on Marco’s chest, but he doesn’t find it in him to care even though he just showered earlier.

The two of them smile at each other as they look at the mess, but they soon pay no mind to it, focused on removing the rest of their clothing. They are fully aware of the cake all over their bodies at this point, but as their hands get messier and goopier when accidentally grabbing onto the cake for some kind of leverage, they don’t hesitate in unintentionally lathering each other with the ruined dessert, just wanting to touch and feel the warmth of their bodies as if this is the last chance they have.

Jean leans close in Marco’s neck, his tongue cleaning off a seemingly sensitive spot and tasting a tantalizing combination of frosting, sweat, and the moist red velvet he has been craving. The thought of all these different tastes makes the both of them moan while the blonde moves on top of the other. With soft kisses and soothing touches, they get a sample of these tastes for themselves. It is easy to tell that they both find this an exceptionally good dessert.

Marco hums while he feels Jean lightly nibbling the treat off his chin. The quiet sounds of them kissing in the otherwise silent hallway sends a thrill down his spine, one that he didn’t think he could feel with anyone. They still have cake all over them, even as Jean kisses down the length of him. He watches him, seeing him taking his time at the way he is feeling and savoring his warm, dark skin as well as every trace of hair on his body. His heart skips a beat while the blonde caresses every tattoo, some familiar and others he hadn’t seen before. All resemble some significance in his life.

The flowers on his sleeve were his first tattoo, and a rather daring one to get. He got it done over the course of a couple months, and during that time he had wanted to be a botanist. High school had him wanting to travel on that path in life, but before he graduated, he realized that he wanted to be involved in the culinary arts. The forget-me-nots were added on a couple years later, for they were his favorite flowers. Jean knows a little bit about the back story behind this one, and he caresses it with the amount of passion that Marco had when he’d explained what it really meant to him.

Marco’s breath hitches as he feels Jean’s hand slipping into his boxers and feeling his backside, right where the all too familiar tattoo is. He got that one shortly after the flowers. Just for the hell of it, he liked it there, and he still has absolutely no regrets.

The next is the multicolored phoenix all down his right side. That one was finished before his father’s death. It resembles his personal growth, reminding him of the day that he realized he was not a burden to his family and friends. He rose from the ashes of the pain from shooting himself down each time he felt like he was never going to be good enough for the people around him. He rose above the voices telling him “No, you can’t,” from people like Samuel Linke-Jackson that did not take his condition seriously and used it to their advantage. From the valley in the Shadow of Death that amplified his fears of falling behind. Those toxic thoughts incinerated and met their own desolation. Jean’s hands linger here, as if to remind him of these silent symbols and how much he rose from, how strong he has become standing on his own and moving him forward despite the voices and people telling him that it was impossible.

That reminder brings tears to Marco’s eyes, but he brings himself to smile while they take a quick break to taste the cake on each other’s necks.

On his other shoulder, there are two wings, one blue and the other white. Purity and the coolness of a man who came to this world and was taken out fighting and staying strong for the family he loved. It was for Pa, the one who inspired him to do great things with his life. He believed in him and supported him best he could after his accident. His dad assured him time and time again that his pa would never leave him, never stop loving him despite being two different worlds away. He was reminded that by the dates under these freedom wings. No one around him will ever stop loving him or believing in him, no matter where in the universe they might be.

Just when the cake finally gets somewhat cleaned off their bodies, Marco shifts closer and his side comes down on the platter to give it a final squash for good measure. While the two of them laugh and he expresses his apologies, Jean takes his husband in his arms—despite how heavy he is—and takes him upstairs to Marco’s bedroom. He lands safely on the bed while the blonde hovers over him, feeling his messy side and catching some traces of the cake.

He licks the frosting off his fingers before leaning down and giving him a deep, and very necessarily sensual kiss. His cleanish hand runs through his hair, and it passes through the graying locks and silvery shades on the sides. When he pulls away, he gives Marco a soft smile. “You know, there’s always hair dye.”

“You dick.” He pouted and shoved his chest. Sooner than later, they go back to their progress and remove each other’s boxers. “Please tell me we have non-latex condoms,” he quickly adds as Jean catches his lips and their growing erections brush against each other. They both hum at the sensation, and Marco watches his husband dig into the nightstand drawer.

“Of course,” he assures him with a soft smile, taking the lube out as well. He sits up and gets a good look at the brunette’s gorgeous body. “You know I was just joking... about what I said with your hair, right?”

“At least I hope it was a joke,” he pants and feels his hair for a moment.

Jean grins and leans down, kissing his lips again. “I heard every word you said out there in the kitchen. And what Dr. Freudenberg helped you realize. Of course I heard. And I have to say this.” He keeps close to him. “You really are stronger than you think you are. And just because you wake up one morning and take things in a lot differently than you should, doesn’t mean that the day is lost and there is not going to be any hope for tomorrow. Every day is different, and every day I find a new reason to realize how lucky I am that you are a part of my life, whether you are seeing me for the first time or the thousandth.”

Marco gives him this shaky smile and looks up. “Well, judging by my hair, I’m going to choose that this is probably the thousandth time.”

He chuckles. “Do you really think my hair is natural, Marco? I’ve been dying it for years. You, this nice gray here... it looks really good on you. And I’m finding more and more reasons why I love you and think you are the most beautiful man I ever met just by looking at you when we wake up each morning.”

The blush that springs on his face is tinged with scarlet. He looks away shyly for a brief moment. “Why would you find those reasons in the _morning_ , Jean? Why not in the afternoon, when I actually look a little decent and not bedridden?”

Jean laughs and gives him a kiss. “I love you, Marco. I love you so much, and I’ll love you more, each and every day.”

As his arms wrap around his husband’s neck, Marco smiles shakily and watches the blonde pick the lube up again and pour it onto his fingers. “I love you too,” he murmurs. “And... you know the cake is still on your fingers, right?”

Jean freezes and looks at his hand. He sees the cake mixed in with the lube and grimaces. “Yeah... this probably would not feel pleasant at all.” He takes some of the blankets and wipes off his hand before applying the lube again now that his hand is cleaner.

After twenty years of switching it up between the two of them, Jean can’t seem to decide which he likes more, being on bottom where Marco can see him writhe and squirm while skin sweatily slides against skin with the slight scratchiness of Marco’s hairs. Or being on top, where it is Marco who takes his turn and lets out the prettiest noises as pleasured tears run down his face. Jean finds out over the years that Marco has a habit of clinging as a bottom. More times than one, the situation has been him riding on top of the blonde with gusto, giving him everything he had with each grinding thrust down onto his cock. Sometimes, albeit not often enough, Marco likes to hold on tight with every fiber of his being while Jean takes his sweet time bringing him to his long-needed climax.

This time he is preferring that maybe Marco should be on bottom. More than anything else, he deserves to feel all the warmth and love that Jean can possibly give him, if he will let him. He wants his husband to experience this embrace the way Jean does, knowing that any past times they had done this he had long since forgotten about. In all honesty, it has been a long while since the two of them had gone this far, and the two of them are both inwardly happy that they are able to break this streak tonight.

“Do you wanna do this?” Jean asks him softly, warming the lube up in his fingers. “Just wanna make sure.”

With that the brunette nods without any hesitation. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have been waiting for this for a while?”

Jean blushes, of course. “I think I just might believe you, Marco.”

They give each other another long kiss, and Jean’s free hand runs over the mess of cake on the phoenix tattoo. His fingers take their time working the brunette open underneath him, and with each teasing motion and moist, audible noise emitted, Marco tries to suppress a whimper but finds himself unable to for a reason that he can’t really think of right now. He blushes at seeing Jean sucking on his frosting covered fingers while he keeps an eye and doesn’t once look away from where the action is below.

“J-Jean,” he gasps. “Jean... Ahh I can’t wait any longer. ‘S too much.”

Jean grins and pulls his fingers out. After he takes his time with getting the condom on over his length and slicking himself up with more lube, leans down, his lips brushing against his neck. “Babe, you shouldn’t have to wait any longer.”

The brunette looks up. “I’m just surprised that... even as we’re getting older, you seem to be acting like this is our first time.”

He smiles at him. “That’s because for you, it really is,” he murmurs softly in his ear. “I want your first time tonight to be as wonderful as any other. Each time with you is special.”

Trying to pretend that his eyes are not watering right now, he smiles at his lover while his legs spread and he waits for him. “Jean...” His lip quivers.

As they kiss more times than they can count within the moment, Marco’s breath hitches as he feels Jean start to fill him up with his girth. He is given some reassurance with each kiss on his face and soft murmur of “I love you,” and as the blonde holds onto his husband and begins to move, Marco gives in under his spell and his limbs cling onto his frame like his life depends on it.

It is not as greedy as he anticipates. Jean takes his sweet time with him, thrusting slow but nice and deep inside him. It is new, different, yet every time with Jean probably is different for him. With each soft moan that he lets out, Jean joins in the soft mantra with his own noises. His nails find their hold on the blonde’s back while his toes curl. He feels young again, after one day of suddenly feeling twenty-five years older. The thought of that makes his eyes water. On this wintry night in New Jersey he gets this surge of nostalgia that he has no idea where it came from. It is so _powerful_ , interweaving with the building friction and needy whines for more.

“Jean... O-oh my god,” he gasps out and clings to him. “Babe— babe, don’t stop.”

“Ah, baby...” The way that Jean says _baby_ so huskily and breathlessly makes him feel weak. “Feels so good, love.”

Marco finds himself tugging at his husband’s hair, earning a hitching gasp out of him and a sudden, sharp thrust into his sweet spot that makes him choke on his next whine. He wants him there, _right there,_ where it feels so hot and _electrifying._ His heart can barely take it as the pulse pounds in his ear, warming his body as the fire spreads from deep in his gut to his curled fingers and toes. The kisses and hot breath against his neck don’t help either, but they are far from being a nuisance. He embraces every single touch, kiss, and thrust that brings him even closer to finding himself in this new world, the future that he never thought that he was going to be sucked in to after waking up in what seems like an alternate reality.

“Jean!” His voice rises slightly as he is being taken higher and _higher_ from his perch. It gets hotter and _tighter,_ and he still insists on more of it. The watery paths of his tears sink down his chin as his neck arches up along with his back. Elevating up from the bed, he clings tighter while he finds the blonde’s grinds getting deeper and both their spiking moans coming out breathier. “Jean— J-Jean I’m gonna...”

Jean knows that warning from anywhere. He holds him tighter and tries to bring him closer, hearing his elated moans and whimpers brush right by his ear. “C’mon baby...” The gasp that follows the pet name makes him twitch above him, and he becomes so focused on getting Marco to where he wants— _needs_ to be. He doesn’t stop once, and has no plans on it until the hot, tight sensation around him finally feels the relief it needs. He finds himself getting closer as well, going right along it him. He holds his husband, helping him as they both start tensing up and bucking harder against one another.

Their moans escalate an octave gradually, finding more breath escaping than audible noise as it gets hotter, _tighter,_ full of the bliss they had been craving for so long but had no idea how badly they’ve needed it. They find relief together, their holds not once loosening as they find themselves being taken higher together. Their bodies become their anchors as they find their minds wandering up even higher than the clouds.

Their kisses bring them down from the blissful high, the presence of the gently glowing stars calming them from billions of miles away from their window. Their murmurs of how much they love each other soothe their shaking frame as Marco can’t bring himself to stop crying tears of absolute joy. He feels like he has never been so happy in his entire life, just looking at the elated expression on his husband’s face while kissing the ring on his trembling finger.

They look at the time to find that it is quarter to midnight. Marco is the first to realize that there is still a mess on the floor.

“Andy is going to kill you, y’know,” the brunette pants and smiles while Jean pales.

“Shit, the cake!” Jean quickly gets up from the bed. “I’ll go mop up the mess.”

“How are we supposed to replace it, Jean?”

The blonde tries to think, still naked as the day he was born while standing right at his husband’s bedside. “...Shoprite?”

They laugh together and find the energy in them to clean up each other and then the mess from the poor cake on the floor in the hallway. Jean and Marco decide that they are going to quickly try and replace the cake. It is not as meaningful as the one Marco and the kids made together, but it is still worth saving. And Marco makes sure that no one touches this one, not even his determined husband that keeps eyeing it as they both go to bed.

Marco realizes that they sleep in different bedrooms, and he is a little upset by that but doesn’t mind in the slightest. He knows that it is better this way. He doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow and go ballistic at seeing the sight of a strange, middle-age man sleeping soundly beside him.

In the meantime, Marco writes more in his journal before he goes to sleep. He almost doesn’t want to, knowing that when he wakes up, he is going to forget all about the things that happened today. It is going to be a clean slate all over again. But he finds that no matter how much time has passed since his accident, his love for his family has never once faded or wavered. It’s as if it is embedded in his heart and soul, where the memories of true emotion are kept. And each day and night, they both remind each other just why they are together, why they are so in love like they are meeting for the very first time.

And tonight, they found love right where they are.


End file.
